


This Is The Time That I'll Come Running

by CatchMeInADream



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Accidental Walkabout, Character Study, F/F, Fluffy Ending, Light Angst, the time i tried to write a fluffy drabble and wrote 16k of character study, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatchMeInADream/pseuds/CatchMeInADream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina has an accidental walkabout in New York.</p><p>Alternate season 4 ending. Assumes Robin Hood never makes a reappearance in Storybrooke, and ignores any of his subsequent character development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The Time That I'll Come Running

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be less than 2,000 words of fluffy pre-Swan Queen. Somehow it turned into 16k of character study and actual Swan Queen. I don't know how it happened or what I'm doing, but I definitely do know that if it weren't for neworldiscoverer, I probably wouldn't even have finished this, let alone ended with something coherent enough to post.

Regina's clothes were still smoking when she went to find Emma in the aftermath. The Savior looked shell shocked, staring at the immense ruin of Main Street, at the destruction she had helped cause, and for a moment Regina's heart seized in her chest. She knew that look, knew that there was a divide now in Emma's perception of herself and what she is capable of. Regina has, after all, seen that look in the mirror. So she drew Emma out of her head with a soft touch to her bare arm. It took Emma a moment to register that someone was touching her; her eyes stared blankly at Regina's fingertips on her skin before slowly refocusing and drawing upward till they came to rest on Regina's face. Now she just looked tired, and it was a look Regina knew she bore as well.

"You did well, Savior," she murmured with a little squeeze of her fingers on Emma's arm.

Emma huffed out a breath. "Yeah," she muttered bitterly. "Then again, it's not like I have a choice or anything."

Again that funny, painful stutter in her chest, and Regina squeezed her arm a little harder. "How are you doing, really?"

Emma shrugged. "I'll live, I guess. And you?"

Emma's hands trailed over the smoking sleeve of Regina's jacket. Regina smiled, and nodded. "The same."

"Henry said you met the Author."

A bitter laugh erupted from Regina's throat before she could stop it. "Killed him, too. What a disappointment."

Emma snorted. "You ain't lying, lady. Someday we might learn, huh?” They shared a wan smile, before Emma shook her head. She was slowly returning to normal, Regina was satisfied to note, watching some of the hollowness leave Emma’s expression as she said carefully, “Write our own happy endings, huh?”

“Assuming he wasn’t just a lying bastard, which is a distinct possibility, that is what he said,” Regina nodded. And then, to her absolute horror, she could not stop herself from ducking her head a little shyly. She took a deep breath and began to ask what she’d come over here to ask. “Emma, there is a favor I would like to ask of you. I—”

“Already did it,” Emma interrupted, looking up and over Regina’s head. She shuffled her feet, scuffing the toe of her shoe on the cracked asphalt. “I texted the address to you before everything went to shit.”

Regina blinked, processing. Emma still wasn’t looking at her, but there was a faint blush to her cheeks, and Regina couldn’t help but to be touched. That Emma had spared her any thought at all before running headlong into battle made her smile. “Thank you.”

Emma still wouldn’t look at her as she shrugged. “You asked. When are you gonna go?”

“I think…” Regina took a deep breath, her stomach twisting uncomfortably within her. Nerves, she told herself. She’d just been waiting for so long. And with the town line all but powerless now, there was no reason not to do it this way. “I think pretty much now.”

Emma actually rocked back on her heels and away from Regina at that, and it made Regina frown because what if she was more hurt than she was letting on? But after a moment Emma settled again, and her face closed off as she nodded. “Cool. That’s…good. I’ll make sure Henry, you know…”

Regina didn’t, actually, have any idea what Emma meant, because of _course_ Emma will make sure Henry. Emma was Henry’s mother just as much as Regina was, and that was the only reason Regina felt comfortable leaving town as soon as she possibly could. Then Emma continued awkwardly, “I might, um, crash on your couch? Maybe? Just while you’re gone, of course.”

And, oh, of course. Emma was not in the loft anymore. And Emma knew without asking that Regina would never consent to let Henry stay with her and the pirate at Granny’s, even if that place weren’t too small. Hook’s newly returned ship was also not an option. Before she knew quite what she was doing, she was shaking her head and saying, “You’ll do no such thing, Emma. Not when there is a perfectly serviceable guest room for you to use. For as long as you require it.”

She stared hard at Emma’s face, willing Emma to understand her, while Emma sputtered and gaped at her, and until Emma finally just snapped her mouth shut and nodded. And again, Regina was acting without thinking because she’d gone and leaned forward and given Emma a quick dry kiss to her cheek. “Thank you,” she said again, and then walked away before they had to talk about it.

She found Henry in the diner, organizing those that had been caught in the crossfire of battle. There were a few murmurs as she walked inside, but for once Regina didn’t feel judged. There were even a few genuine inquiries about her well being as she passed by on her way to reach Henry. He stopped what he was doing as soon as he saw her, and engulfed her in his arms. Regina had several long moments to think that she would never get used to feeling small in her son’s arms, but the way he pressed his face against her temple was possibly something she could quite come to love.

When they pulled away from one another, she got right to the point. “Henry, Emma is going to stay with you at the manor for a few days. There is something I need to do, and I’ll need to leave town to do it.”

And of course, Henry was not a stupid child and he understood what she wasn’t saying immediately. He frowned. “Are you sure, Mom?”

She wasn’t completely sure what the look he was giving her meant, but she was sure that it was comprised mostly of worry. And though it warmed her that he would so openly worry for her now, she would never stop reassuring him so he didn’t have to. She reached out and brushed some of his hair from his face. “I’m sure, Henry. I’ll be fine. I’ve left Storybrooke before.”

If anything, that just made his frown deepen, and Regina frowned too. What, if not that, could he possibly be worried about? But just as she opened her mouth to ask, he wrapped her into another hug, and murmured into her ear, “I just want you to have the happy ending you deserve.”

She blinked back the tears that sprung immediately to her eyes, and stroked Henry’s cheek. “And I will, Henry. All I have to do now is take it.”

She kissed his forehead, and said goodbye, and just before the door to the diner closed behind her, she heard him say quietly, “That’s actually what I’m afraid of.”

She understood what he meant, but she pretended not to even have heard.

* * *

 

It took her just about eight hours to drive to New York City, and there was something about that that just seemed so very wrong. There should be more distance than that, surely, separating her from her happy ending. All this heartache, and in the end, it was barely more than a day’s drive away. It was late when she arrived, and still it took her longer than she expected to find a hotel near the address Emma had texted her. She did eventually find one, and by the time she got herself checked in and settled, it was almost three in the morning. Still, she sent Henry a text to assure him that she’d made it, and that she would call him tomorrow afternoon. Then she changed into the nightgown she’d brought, packed on top of the burgundy lingerie she’d brought for tomorrow, and brushed her teeth and washed her face and crawled, exhausted, into the bed.

Sometime between Boston and New York, a heavy weight had taken up permanent residence in her stomach. The closer she got to the city, the bigger and heavier the weight seemed to grow. Now she was sick to her stomach with it, and she couldn’t quite fathom why. She was finally getting what she wanted: her happy ending. It was hers now, fought for and paid for in sweat and tears and blood, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, standing in the way of her having it. So why did she feel like this? She’d finally won!

Hadn’t she?

Her sleep, when it finally came, was restless. She had to spend extra time at the mirror in the morning, carefully smoothing away the signs of her ill rest with the makeup she’d brought. Her bra, and the matching panties and the garter belt and stockings that went with it, felt more constrictive than she’d remembered, and she felt uncomfortable in them. She covered them with a dress she knew made her ass look amazing, but even that seemed to hug her wrong, and she couldn’t stop herself from picking at it with her fingers. And while her shoes did incredible things for her legs, they didn’t seem to fit right today. The rock in her stomach made her feel as though she weighed a ton.

Nerves, she told herself firmly, and left her hotel in resolution. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked the few short blocks to the address Emma had given her. It was a beautiful brownstone building, and she smiled to see it. She didn’t know how he could afford this, but she wasn’t surprised that Robin had landed on his feet in this world. The building was even across from a beautiful green park that she already knew Roland loved.

There were only four buzzers for her to ring, and one of them said Locksley under it. While her stomach threatened to revolt, Regina resolutely pressed down on it. When, after a few minutes, no one had answered, she pressed again. Still, no one answered. Angry now, and frightened, she pressed down on it three more times in quick succession, but there was never an answer. Her hand fell limply to her side, and she stared at the name below the buzzer in disbelief.

Finally, after several people had come out of the building and given her odd looks as they passed, Regina stumbled down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Feeling dazed, she wandered over to the park, and found a little bench ensconced within a copse of trees, and sat heavily on it. Had she truly come all this way, only for it to end like this? It was a weekend, he should have been home. Perhaps he didn’t live there anymore, and the landlord just hadn’t yet removed his name from the buzzer? But surely if that were the case, Emma would have been able to find an updated address for him. Shouldn’t she have? Unless, and this thought bubbled up from the darker parts of her mind, unbidden and unwanted but unable to be ignored, unless Emma had _purposefully_ given her the wrong address. Wouldn’t that be just like a Charming, tricking her like this? How many times would she have to prove herself to that tribe of self righteous idiots! Hadn’t she suffered enough? Hadn’t she sacrificed enough? And how dare anyone judge her anymore, when not even Snow White and her Prince could be considered good and pure anymore! When she got back to Storybrooke, she was going to make Emma Swan regret the day she decided to deceive Regina in this way!

She had stood to storm back to her hotel when she heard it. High, clear, and unforgettable, that was the sound of Roland Locksley shrieking in laughter. Regina whipped around, her eyes scanning the playground for the boy.

She found him on the swings, holding on tightly as he sailed high in the air. His feet passed over the broad shouldered form of his father, his back facing her, and Regina felt her breath catch even at that sight of him, the weight in her stomach growing painful now. Robin grabbed his son’s feet as he came down and pushed, and the little boy laughed again, half in delight and half in terror. Regina took a step forward, opening her mouth to call out.

Then Roland came to the top of his arch on the back side of the swings, and Regina froze again. Marian reached up with both hands and gave her son a solid push against his back, rocking forward until she stood on one foot and Roland sailed away from her. Her face lit up as the boy laughed and shrieked, kicking when Robin again grabbed his ankles and pushed. The swing was slowing, and Marian’s next laughing push wasn’t as hard as the first. As the swing sailed forward again, Roland waited until he’d gained about half the height he would, and then let go of the swing’s chains. He sailed off the swing, while Marian cried out in alarm and delight, and Robin caught the boy firmly in his arms. He swung the child up, then settled him on his hip.

Marian came around the swings, careful to avoid the other children using them, and tickled Roland’s belly with the fingers of both of her hands when she got to him. Then she tucked herself under Robin’s free arm, and the three of them turned away.

Regina ducked behind a tree before she knew what she was doing. Breathing hard, she peeked around it. The little family was walking near now, clearly headed back to their home. Marian was smiling, and Roland was still giggling, but it was the look on Robin’s face that stopped Regina’s heart in her chest. Because he was absolutely beaming, pride and joy radiating from his entire bearing, and it only intensified as he looked between his child and his child’s mother. He squeezed Marian tighter against his side, and pressed a kiss into her hair. She smiled back up at him, and Regina realized with a sharp ache that he had never looked so at ease with her. Their time together had been brief and fraught with tension and fear, and their most light hearted day had been the one when Emma had brought Marian back. Even then, there had been a shadow to Robin’s eyes when he looked down at her. There had been love there, yes, of course he had loved her, but their affair, she realized abruptly, had always been just that: an affair. She was his soulmate and he loved her, but loving her had brought him pain.

But now, he was happy. His family was happy. Roland laughed and laughed, and Marian’s smile was brighter than the sun, and Robin looked carefree and happy and in love. Free from Storybrooke, free from her and their shared destiny, he had been free to fall in love with his wife once again. And no matter how much she wanted that for herself, that happiness, the trust that Marian’s eyes held while they gazed up at her husband, trust that Robin loved her and would take care of her and their child, Regina was not willing to break up this marriage to get it. Not when she knew it would dim the light in three sets of eyes if she did.

She waited until they were safely inside their building to walk away. She passed many people on her walk to her hotel, and none of them seemed to notice that she was crying.

* * *

 

Alone in her hotel, tears drying on her face, Regina ripped her dress over her head and with fumbling fingers stripped off her lingerie. She stuffed the lot of it into the tiny trash can under the sink, using her shoes to jam it all down so she could tie the bag shut. Then she grabbed it and hurled it at the wall with a strangled scream.

Naked, chest heaving, Regina curled her fingers into her hair and tried to calm herself. But no matter how much air she sucked into her lungs she could not seem to fill them, and her skin felt hot but clammy. She clenched her fingers, her nails biting into her palms, and for a moment her head swam and her vision went blurry. Even her eyes felt warm, and her whole body was trembling with emotion.

Another scream erupted from her throat, and she bolted forward to rip the bedding from her bed. She threw the pillows against the walls, tore the cushions from the armchair in the corner and threw them too. She tipped the two chairs at the table over, and slammed all the drawers of the dresser open. She ripped the phone from the wall and slammed the receiver onto the cradle until the casing cracked.

Spent, she burst into tears again. And now she was glad to be alone because these were not pretty, silent tears. They were loud and messy and desperate and full of decades of anguish. She could not remember the last time she had cried like this. Not even sobbing into Henry's pillow, or over Daniel's body, or into her hands in her marriage bed, had ever felt like this. She felt ugly and raw and strangely liberated.

She didn't know how long she cried. Until there were no more tears left to expend. And then, wearily, she curled up on the bed and drew the sheet over her shivering body. This time, she slept like the dead.

She awoke feeling strangely calm. She ran a brush through her hair, and pulled on a blouse and slacks, and righted one of the chairs by the table. She pulled her iPad from her purse, set it up on the table, and selected Henry's name. He answered almost immediately, and the sight of him soothed much of the damage in her soul. She smiled, genuine, and it felt like she'd never done it before.

"Mom?" Her son's voice was uncertain, and Regina realized that beyond brushing her hair, she had not taken very good care of herself. She must look a mess. So she put on a big smile. Henry frowned.

"Henry," she interrupted his intended question. "I only wanted to check in."

"Are you okay?"

She widened her smile. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Henry's brows drew together as he studied her. Slowly, as though testing the waters, he asked, "How's Robin?"

Regina's heart lurched, and her lips pulled upward again. Truthfully, she answered, "He's wonderful, Henry. He's very happy."

"Oh. Okay." The confusion was plain on his face. "You seem weird."

"I'm fine, Henry. I promise. Actually—” She cut herself off as she heard a crash in the background of Henry’s end, followed by the sound of Emma Swan trying very hard to censor herself as she cursed. Her eyes narrowed and the pain in her chest eased a little. “What on earth was that?”

Henry blushed a little. “That would be Emma. I think she was trying to get the contents of our refrigerator off the ceiling.”

_“What?”_

Henry grimaced. “Oh. Um, didn’t you see? When you came home to pack?”

“I didn’t come home, Henry, I used a summoning charm for the things I needed. What happened in my kitchen?”

“Cruella happened,” Henry sighed with a roll of his eyes. “The whole house is pretty much trashed. I don’t know if she was looking for something or just being a bitch but she ransacked everything. Emma and I thought we probably should start cleaning in the kitchen before anything spoils.”

Regina, for once, didn’t even bother to scold Henry for his coarse language. Instead she mimicked his sigh. “Should I come home?”

Henry chewed his lip, thinking, and Regina was surprised to realize that she didn’t really want to go back to Storybrooke yet. It would be too humiliating; everyone knew what she’d left for, and if she came back alone, so quickly after leaving, she wasn’t sure she could handle it just yet. Finally though he shook his head. “No, we’ve got it. You just…” He trailed off, uncomfortable.

“Please make sure Emma doesn’t hurt herself,” Regina requested quietly. She should have been reassuring Henry, at least, that what he believed to be going on was not really happening, but for some reason she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him. In the background, Emma was still cursing, but with less feeling to it now. Regina felt a fond smile curve her lips; it made Henry grin too, and suddenly they were both feeling better. “She’ll try to overdo it, so she doesn’t have to deal with—”

“The entire rest of her life?” Henry interrupted cheekily. He nodded. “I know, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on her. It’s a big house, and really, _all_ of it is trashed. Cruella really has self-control issues, you know that?”

Regina laughed delightedly. “It comes with the territory, I’m afraid. I have been known to set entire villages on fire.”

“There’s mustard on the ceiling fans,” Henry countered gravely.

“Oh, that _is_ disgusting,” Regina agreed with a little shiver of distaste. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come home?”

“No, no, I think Emma needs a project. Plus, you know, we have really great locks so Grams and Gramps aren’t likely to get in when they just show up.” Henry shrugged. “I think she needs everyone to leave her alone for a little while. She’s processing.”

Regina understood that all too well, and she was more than happy to let her home be Emma’s safe place if that was what the blonde needed. Especially if it meant she did not have to clean the mess Cruella had made herself. She nodded. “Alright then, Henry. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I should probably go help now though. I guess, um, tell Robin I said hello? I mean. If you want.” Regina only hummed a reply. There was a bang, and then Emma was shouting again. Henry winced. “Okay. I’m going to go save my other mother now. There wasn’t anything else you wanted, was there?”

“No, just to talk to you for a little while. I love you, Henry.”

“Love you too, Mom. Bye.”

Henry was bringing his screen closer to his face to hang up when something occurred to Regina suddenly. She started, reaching out as if she could stop him. “Henry, wait!”

Henry paused. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Actually, there's something I would like to ask you."

"Oh, okay. What?"

"When you lived here with Emma, where did you go to school?"

* * *

 

She found Henry’s school, and was unsurprised to see that it met her standards well. Emma had done a splendid job acting on the memories and skills Regina had given her. Though it was a Sunday, she was lucky enough to be there on a night when the doors were open. The marquee in front said that the senior class was putting on Julius Caesar, and Regina was there in time to watch children and their families heading inside. The children going into the school were impeccably groomed in their evening wear, and there were teachers in every corner of the schoolyard, keeping watchful eye on the property. She’d looked up the curriculum online, and found it acceptable. It was a good school, and she was glad Henry had at least had a good education and friends while he was here.

And it helped her, too. She hadn’t just missed him that year, she had worried for him as well. With everything that had been happening, so quickly since their return from the Enchanted Forest, she hadn’t truly realized that those worries were still there, in the back of her head. Had Henry and Emma been happy here in the city? Had they lived well? Eaten well? Had they been safe?

She walked past the address that Henry told her was their apartment, and found that equally as pleasing as the school. It was a nice building, in a safe neighborhood. It was within walking distance of a library, and an arcade, and a small park, so she was sure Henry hadn’t been bored. She could easily imagine Emma and Henry spending a day in the arcade, and taking lunch in the park.

Overcome with a strange desire she couldn’t quite put a name to, Regina pulled her phone out and swiped her fingers over the touch screen. Emma answered almost immediately. “You are having the weirdest soulmate reunion ever if you’re spending this much time talking to me and Henry.”

Regina couldn’t help but laugh at the greeting, and it took her a moment to realize that the joke hadn’t even hurt. She smiled, the expression sitting oddly on her face, but just like that afternoon with Henry, feeling as though it were the first time she’d done it. The ache in her chest, a constant companion since seeing Robin in the park, and which had not lessened, but rather shifted into something less sharp but still uncomfortable during her conversation with Henry, actually did seem to recede some at the Savior’s crude joke. “Yes, thank you for that, Miss Swan.”

Emma chuckled. “I’m just saying. Anyway, I needed a break. Your house is a mess, woman.”

“Henry told me not to come home,” she said. “Was he wrong? You shouldn’t have to clean up my messes.”

“Technically I think it’s Cruella’s mess, and also? Been cleaning up your messes for _years_ now, and this one is actually easy in comparison.” Emma’s voice was warm, and Regina marveled at the turns her life had taken, that they were now at a point where they could joke like this. Emma sighed, then, the sound heavy and tired. She said, “Actually, I kind of like the excuse not to leave the house. Human interaction is not high on my list of things to do for a while.”

And oh, did Regina understand that. “Their intentions are good, Emma.”

“Ugh, not you too,” Emma muttered. “Out of everyone, I thought at least you would be down with me avoiding Snow White.”

“Oh, I am,” Regina agreed easily enough. “But they are your parents, and you can only avoid them for so long. That their intentions are good now does not absolve them of their crimes, and I believe Maleficent would be perfectly justified in charring them to a crisp.”

“I’m tempted to let her,” Emma admitted.

“You may hide in my home for as long as you need to, Emma,” Regina assured her.

“Thanks,” Emma said sincerely. “So, was there something you wanted, or did you just call to hear my voice?”

Regina sat on a nearby bench, nodding to the old woman already sitting at its other end. Her lips were beginning to feel comfortable in the upward curve that they had settled in while talking with the other woman. She made herself comfortable, and said, “I am sitting on a bench across the street from the apartment you shared with Henry.”

Emma sucked in a breath. “Why the hell are you doing that?”

“I wanted to see what your life was like,” Regina admitted candidly. “It’s a beautiful building, Emma. And I’ve already been by Henry’s old school. You chose well.”

She could practically hear Emma’s blush at the other end of the line. “Wow. Thanks, Regina.”

Regina’s smile deepened. “Of course, you were only able to choose well because of my influence, so really I’m congratulating myself here, dear.”

“Oh, of course,” Emma laughed. “Look at us, joking around like we’re some sort of well adjusted adults.”

“It’s alright. We both know better than that,” Regina answered, amused. She shifted on the bench, pressing the phone to her other ear. The old woman she was sharing the bench with was smiling at her knowingly, and rather than distract herself from her playful banter with Emma to wonder what the woman thought she knew, Regina just smiled at her, too, and continued with her conversation. “Tell the truth, now. How much time did you let him spend in the arcade?”

“Hey now! That’s not fair!” Regina could just picture Emma’s finger waving in the air in front of her face. “I can see the judgey face you’re making!”

Regina shrugged, though Emma couldn’t see the gesture. “Tell me about something that happened while you lived here.”

Another thing Regina could picture perfectly: the surprised way Emma blinked at her request. But then she chuckled and started, “Okay, well, this one time—oh. Hey, wait. Hold on, I’ve got another—oh. Never mind. It’s just Killian.”

Regina sighed. “I’ll let you go then.”

“Nah,” Emma said, a little too casually, and Regina lifted an eyebrow. “I’d rather talk to you. Okay, so, there was this one time we were at the park feeding the ducks…”

* * *

 

She slept a little easier that night, and in the morning she took a few extra minutes to put her face on. Out on the street, she found a vendor and bought herself a cup of coffee and a newspaper, and sipped slowly as her feet walked her, all unwillingly, in the direction of Robin’s apartment. It was early. Perhaps she would catch a glimpse of him as he left for work.

She went back to her bench in the park. The playground was empty but there were a few joggers, and what looked like a yoga class in the grass beyond the play equipment. Regina sat back against the bench, snapped open her paper, and watched Robin’s door over the top of it.

She didn't mean to get distracted but her existence in Storybrooke was so insular. She hardly knew anything about the world outside of her town, so the headlines in her paper caught her eye. Soon she found herself engrossed in a story about local politics, intrigued by the undercurrents she read between the lines of what was not said. She almost missed it when the door to the apartment opened. She only noticed, in fact, because when it did, it brought with it the sound of Roland Locksley throwing a passionate fit.

Startled, Regina peeked over her paper and grinned when she saw Robin with the little boy slung over his shoulder. He was dressed in a little blue uniform, and he was kicking Robin's shoulder and beating his back with tiny fists and wailing unhappily. The look on Robin's face was one of pained amusement, and Regina herself was so entertained by the spectacle that the sight of her soulmate wasn't the stabbing pain she had expected. Instead it was more of a dull throb.

A harried looking Marian came out behind them, a tiny Hiccup and Toothless backpack dangling from her fingers. She was hiding a grin behind one hand as she watched her husband and son struggle against one another. Finally, Robin set the boy on his feet and knelt so he could place his large hands on his shoulders. Obviously Regina couldn't hear what he was saying but she watched Robin's lips move with an odd sort of detachment. Slowly Roland's wails turned into sniffles, and finally the little boy rubbed his eyes furiously. Then he threw his arms around Robin's neck. Robin hugged his son close, finally prying him away and handing him off to Marian. Marian helped the boy into his backpack. Still sniffling, Roland crossed his arms and sulked while Marian stepped into the circle of Robin's arms.

It hurt a little more now, watching her soulmate and his wife together. But there was no burn of jealousy, no bitterness that Marian had something that was rightfully Regina's. Instead what she felt was a keen, aching sense of resignation. She would never have this. And she would have to find a way to be okay with that.

She ducked back behind her paper when Marian tilted her face up for a kiss. She was beginning to learn how not to punish herself unnecessarily. Instead she waited what felt like a appropriate amount of time and peeked over the top again. Robin was still holding Marian, speaking with her gently, while Roland looked bored and cranky holding onto Marian’s cardigan. Finally Robin kissed Marian’s forehead, and crouched down to do the same to Roland. Then he turned and walked up the street, away from his family in the direction of Regina's hotel.

She wondered where he was going. What was his job here? Did he like it? But she didn't get up to follow. In fact, she wasn't even tempted. Instead she turned back to watch Marian take Roland's hand and together they walked in the opposite direction. She smiled fondly as she watched Roland drag his feet stubbornly, and Marian’s exasperated patience with his behavior. It didn't seem like all that long ago that Henry was engaging in such behavior himself.

When the Locksleys were out of sight in both directions, Regina returned her attention to her article. She sat on the bench until she had read the whole paper.

* * *

 

She wanted to go to the Met, but it was closed on Mondays. Instead she took a cab to Manhattan and went to the Cloisters. She remembered Henry mentioning it once, when he still did not remember who she was. He said he’d been there on a class trip, and that for some reason, the things he saw there really resonated with him. She understood why the moment she saw the place. And when she stepped inside she had to breathe deeply, because this place was familiar to her, too. Henry had seen architecture like this in the pages of his storybook, but for Regina it was like stepping back into White Castle again. Her own castle in the Enchanted Forest had been dark and foreboding, designed to feel claustrophobic and threatening. But this was different. Huge, yes, just like hers, but open and light. Still foreboding but not in a dangerous way. White Castle had felt more like a cage to her than her own Dark Fortress ever had, and this was a little slice of that in the middle of New York City. Everything from the largest arches down to the smallest dripstones took her back to her time as Leopold’s wife.

She snapped a picture of a beautiful green courtyard, and sent it to Henry, with the caption, _I had a very similar yard for my apple tree in your grandmother’s castle._

Twenty minutes later, as she was inspecting tapestries, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The name on the screen was Emma’s, and with a bright smile she answered in a low voice, mindful of her surroundings, “Well hello again, Miss Swan.”

“Yeah…um…” Henry coughed. “Actually it’s me. Or its both of us. You’re on speaker phone.”

Regina felt her face flush hotly. “Oh, I see.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You’re at the Cloisters!” Emma’s voice came through.

“Indeed I am,” Regina agreed. “Henry mentioned it once, and I wanted to see.”

“Do you like it?” Henry asked.

“I think I don’t,” Regina answered truthfully, moving on to the next tapestry.

“HAH!” Emma cried. “Kid, you owe me twenty bucks!”

Regina’s lips quirked as she heard Henry grumble and shuffle around. There was the sound of her son pulling crumpled bills from his pocket, and Emma crowing in triumph as she snatched them. Putting as much disapproval into her voice as she could, she demanded, “Gambling, Miss Swan? Any other deplorable habits you’d like to teach our son at my expense?”

Emma’s cheering immediately transformed into a stuttering apology, while Henry snickered at her. Regina let her amusement build until Emma’s stammering became almost embarrassing, and Henry’s laughter became borderline disrespectful. She cracked a smile and let it show in her voice when she said, “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Henry, leave your mother alone.”

Now they were both spluttering, and Regina chuckled at their expense. She could just picture the way Emma was shaking her head, and the chagrined expression on her face as she said, “Okay, yes, you got us, good job. You’re still smarter than us.”

“Well, that goes without saying,” Regina quipped. “What was the bet?”

“When you texted me that picture and said what you did about your tree, I said that I thought you probably felt a little at home there at the Cloisters,” Henry explained. “Emma said you probably hated it there.”

“I spent time in the Enchanted Forest too, remember?” Emma muttered smugly.

“Well, Henry, you aren’t necessarily wrong,” Regina admitted. “I do feel somewhat at home here.” Then she sighed. “You’ll also remember that I went to quite a bit of trouble to leave that place.”

On the other line, her son and his mother went quiet. Regina’s feet moved her on, her fingers trailing over an intricately carved stone banister as she went. There were a hundred railings like this in her memories, and in them her hand was holding them delicately behind Snow’s smaller one as they descended into whatever function or ball or celebration together.

“You were really that unhappy there, huh?” Henry asked finally, his voice subdued.

Regina sighed. “I spent a lot of time there alone and afraid, Henry. It doesn’t justify anything that I did, but yes, I was.”

“Oh my god, you two are just the worst right now,” Emma finally said brusquely. Now it was Regina that could hear an eye roll. She heard a sound that she assumed was Emma clapping her hands and then rubbing them together, and then the Savior’s voice said, “Look, Regina, if you’re at the Cloisters, you’re actually pretty close to this pizza place Henry and I used to go to sometimes and—”

“Oh my god Mom you have to go!” Henry interrupted. “It’s literally the best pizza you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

“Oh yes,” Regina said dryly. “Because I’m such a pizza aficionado. I think I’ll pass, dear.”

“No, you should really go to this place,” Emma insisted. “I think you’ll like it, and didn’t I just prove I do actually know you pretty well? Trust me, this place is amazing.”

“It’s not even greasy or anything,” Henry added. “But it’s the crust you’ll really like. Promise.”

And as she’d been doing lately she was picturing them again, sitting together on her couch with the phone between them. Both of them would be grinning and looking down at it expectantly, as if they would be able to see it when she finally caved. Because she would cave, Regina realized with resignation. There was no way she could resist that much hopeful anticipation.

“Oh for—” she huffed out like she was annoyed, but she was actually the furthest thing from it, and she was pretty sure the two on the other end of the line knew it because they laughed at her. “Tell me where it is, and I’ll go.”

They did, and she left the Cloisters happy that she’d gone, but just as pleased to be leaving. And Emma had been right, of course, about the pizza. She didn’t tell them, but she ordered extra just to bring back to her hotel to eat for breakfast in the morning.

* * *

 

The next morning found her once more on the park bench across from Robin’s apartment. This time, in addition to her coffee and paper, she also had the final bit of thick wheat crust from the pizza from the night before, drizzled with honey. She held her paper folded in one hand to scan, but most of her focus was on not letting the honey drip down her wrist.

She was sucking the last of the honey from her fingertips when Robin came out his door. She caught him from the corner of her eye, and watched him walk slowly down the steps of his building. She waited for Marian to follow him out with Roland, but Robin started his walk down the street. Blinking in surprise, Regina tucked her paper under her arm, found her coffee, and followed him. She stayed on the other side of the street, and several paces behind him, and was careful never to let him feel her eyes on his back. She wondered, though, if he’d lost some of the instinct he’d honed in the Enchanted Forest anyway, here in the city, even though her goal was to stay secret from him.

It couldn’t be a bad thing, though, if he had. Watching him she could see that his gait was freer than she’d seen it before. He wasn’t worried about what was lurking around the corner. He wasn’t concerned about some unknown menace, he wasn’t ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. He was just…walking to work.

It was nice, Regina thought, to see him so relaxed and unconflicted. Walking through the streets of New York had shown Regina something she’d never had the opportunity to experience before. This sort of unconcern was unique to her; she wasn’t used to being around people who weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. She hadn’t even really realized that the people in Storybrooke were until she came here, but there was a definite difference between the residents of her town and the residents of this city. These people had no concept of the kinds of danger that Storybrooke experienced on a regular basis.

She wished she could secure Storybrooke in this way, so that all of her citizens could experience this blissful oblivion. But that was unrealistic, and she knew it. But it wasn’t nothing, she thought, that at least a few of her former subjects could have it. Roland wouldn’t have to grow up waiting for the next magical attack. He wouldn’t ever wear the same frightened expression Henry got whenever he knew one or the other of his mothers was in danger. Regina was unwilling to leave Storybrooke; whatever else happened, it was her town, that she had built herself. She felt like she belonged in Storybrooke more than she had ever belonged anywhere else. If she disrupted Robin’s life now, he would return with her, and he would bring his family.

If she hadn’t known before she was making the right choice, she knew it now.

Robin disappeared down into the subway. Regina kept on walking.

* * *

 

Since she was being touristy anyway, she found the botanical gardens that day and spent her whole day wandering. This, she thought, this was the existence she'd wanted as a girl. Beautiful colors and the smell of the earth between her fingers. A couple of horses and Daniel. Just that, and nothing more. Perhaps she was ill suited for that kind of peaceful existence now, but back then it was all she had wanted.

And she would have been good at it, she thought, caressing the soft petals of an orchid. She would have been a good wife to Daniel, and a good mother to their children. And the longing she felt for that life was still there, for all that she would not change what she had done to bring Henry into her life. It was a dull and throbbing ache in her heart, but it wasn't gone and it wasn't less. She loved and missed Daniel now exactly as much as she had the day he died. Daniel had made her feel safe in a life that was anything but. He'd made her feel loved when no one else had. He'd been gentle with her when nearly every other touch she knew brought pain, and the only words he had ever had for her were kind ones.

To this day, he remained the only person who had never made her feel anything but worthy. Of course she still loved him. Perhaps he hadn't been her soulmate, but she had no doubt that theirs had been a Love True enough to rival Snow and Charming's.

Perhaps that meant there was hope for her yet, that Robin didn’t have to be her last chance at the thing she’d been grasping for all her life. But then, perhaps not. The people she’d cursed might well be slowly accepting her as more than the woman that had cursed them, but she had no illusions about herself. She was still the Evil Queen, and she would never be able to escape that part of herself. She could not even resent it, because she’d made it that way herself. Hell, in all of Storybrooke, there was only one person she could think of that accepted each and every part of her exactly as it was, and expected nothing more from her than that. Even Henry expected her to be better than she ever thought she could be, and she honestly wouldn’t have her son any other way. But even that could be tiresome.

But Emma Swan knew her. Emma knew about the different facets of Regina’s personality. And when Emma discovered new ones, perhaps ones that weren’t shiny or good, Emma didn’t shrink from her. Emma let her be the person she was. Emma was the only person since Daniel that had sought out a relationship with her.

Goddamn Emma Swan.

Just as she finished the exasperated mental curse of her friend the Savior, she came upon a tree she was truly surprised to see among these beautiful flowers and bushes. The honey locust was young, and not terribly big, but the spines on its branches were easily two to three inches long. She huffed out a laugh and pulled out her phone. She snapped a picture and sent it to Emma, typing along with it, _I’m bringing this tree home for you. We can plant it near my apple tree._

A few moments later, the phone rang, and when Regina answered it, Emma laughed out, “Ha very ha, Your Majesty. You’re super cute.”

Regina enjoyed the flush that crept down her neck at the words, and quipped, “Indeed I am, my dear.”

“The botanical gardens today, yeah? Taking Roland on a field trip before you come home?” Emma asked, and something about the knowing timbre of her voice made Regina’s breath catch a bit. For just a moment she felt trapped, like she’d been found out, but of course that was ridiculous. She didn’t know why she was neglecting to tell Emma of her decision not to pursue Robin, especially when it would soon become common knowledge anyway, the moment she stepped foot home again. But she wanted to keep it to herself a little longer. She wanted to stave off the pity for as long as she possibly could.

Taking a deep, calming breath through her nose, she said casually, “No, dear, its Tuesday. Roland is at preschool.”

“Oh of course,” Emma replied, just as casually. “So you’re sight seeing alone again?”

“Well, when will I ever have reason to come back to New York?” Regina snapped a spine from the honey locust off and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. She pricked her finger on several more of them as she walked away from the tree, and found a bench near a butterfly garden to sit down on. “I think I should see as much as I can while I’m here, don’t you?”

“I think you should stay as long as you need to,” Emma told her quietly. “And only come back when you’ve…seen…everything.”

Regina’s eyes slipped closed. Emma knew. She was sure of it. Of course Emma knew. And Emma was…what? Emma was waiting for her to be ready to face the town. It was the same thing, she realized, that she was doing by allowing Emma to hide in her home while she was gone. And after, if she wanted to, Regina realized abruptly. She would never kick Emma out if the woman still needed a safe haven upon her return.

“Where’s Henry?” she asked, unable to continue the double edged conversation anymore.

“Helping clear away debris at the school.” Regina could hear Emma rolling her eyes. “For some reason the kid is anxious to get back to, like, learning and stuff. He definitely gets being a nerd from you.”

“I hardly think he’s learning much of value,” Regina shot back immediately, “Considering your mother is plaguing his education with nothing but birds.”

Emma burst into laughter, “Oh my god, I know, right? I mean, Henry loves it so I wasn’t going to say anything, but really I think he still just gets a kick out of the fact that Snow White is his teacher. Can’t you do something about the school’s curriculum?”

“I may have to,” Regina muttered. She was pleased, though, that the bitterness with which Emma had been speaking of her parents lately was absent from her voice. She smiled, and asked, “How is my home? Cruella didn’t destroy anything valuable, did she?”

Emma knew that Regina wasn’t talking about the furniture, because she answered, “Some pictures are a little ragged where their frames busted, but no, I don’t think she did. There was no saving the dining room table though.” When Regina sighed, Emma hurried to add, “But don’t worry. I already called Marco. He’s going to make you a new one, free of charge. A thanks for keeping August safe.”

“I’m the one that kidnapped Pinocchio to begin with!” Regina protested in bewilderment.

“Gift horse, don’t look, blah blah,” Emma dismissed her protest.

“ _You_ are ridiculous, Emma Swan,” Regina told her firmly. “And when I get back—what on earth is that sound?”

The sound she was hearing, faintly through the other line, was an erratic thumping sound that was gradually getting louder. Emma huffed out a loud sigh. “It’s Hook.”

_“Is he banging his hook on my front door?”_

“Yeah, uh, I’ll get it fixed if he messes the wood up, okay?” Emma promised sheepishly. “I just don’t…want…to talk to him right now.”

“You didn’t want to talk to him on Sunday, either,” Regina said pointedly. Emma couldn’t see it, but she was giving the phone her best stern glare, too.

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I know. He’s part of the problem I’m avoiding by staying in your house, okay? He’s just…really fucking clingy right now and I can’t handle it.”

“You almost died, Emma,” Regina reminded her in a low voice.

“No, I almost became the Dark One, _Regina_ ,” Emma returned sharply. “And I didn’t, because you totally saved me, so whatever, okay?”

“Is he there looking for you or for me?” It suddenly occurred to her that the pirate might have a few choice words for her, considering how things had happened during that battle. “You only came that close because it was happening to me, first.”

“Oh my god, really?” Emma whisper yelled in annoyance. “Can we not do this? It doesn’t matter, it’s done, and I’d make the same damn decision a hundred times over, Regina! Just like you would, too. So it doesn’t matter. None of it has anything to do with the fact that now my stupid pirate boyfriend won’t stop treating me like an imbecile child that can’t be trusted to be alone for ten minutes unless he’s in the room too!”

“The last time I was alone in a room with Killian, I woke up strapped to a table,” Regina absently responded, before she could stop herself. She immediately wished she could snatch the words back and stuff them down her throat again, because Emma went very, very quiet at the other end of the line.

Finally, her voice creaked as she asked, “What?”

Regina sighed and shook her head. “It’s nothing, Emma, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Emma laughed a little hysterically. “You’re kidding, right? Forget it? You’re talking about that creepy out of towner that took Henry, aren’t you? Greg, or whatever his name was? Hook gave you to him?”

“It was a long time ago, Emma, and it really doesn’t matter anymore. Please, I’ve gotten over it.” Blatant lie. She still woke up choking on screams after dreams of lightning in her veins. But Emma didn’t need to know that, and truly, Regina had long ago stopped blaming Killian Jones for delivering her up to be tortured. He’d never been anything but a pawn and if there was anyone in the world that understood being played like that, it was Regina. She didn’t want to be alone with him ever again, but she had forgiven him for the role he had played in what had happened to her that day.

Emma, though, was seething. Regina heard it in her voice when she snarled, “I have to go, Regina. You have a nice time in the gardens.”

The line went dead, and Regina stared down at her phone’s home screen blankly. A little blue butterfly came and landed on it gently.

* * *

 

She found herself on the bench in Roland's park that afternoon almost by accident. Without her coffee and paper to entertain her hands, she felt awkward and stiff, and she couldn't shake the feeling that everyone that passed her was watching her. She'd tried to enjoy the gardens after Emma had hung up on her but that had been a futile effort. All she had succeeded in doing was making herself sick with worry. She had tried calling Henry a few times but he hadn't answered.

She sighed. She had to start watching her mouth. She just couldn't let it get away with her in this way anymore. This lapse in judgment was every bit as damaging as what she'd said to Pinocchio that day in her office.

Her phone buzzed; when she saw Henry's name on the screen she jumped up as she answered. "It was an accident, Henry. I swear!"

Henry laughed at her. "What, the way Emma went off on Hook today? I know."

Regina clutched her phone and started walking; she was so twisted up with worry for Emma, and so focused on her conversation with Henry, that she almost didn't notice Marian and Roland coming out of their home. She did, at the last second, and twisted around so they couldn't see her face as she quickened her step. Marian's bright smile down at her son didn't register with Regina at all. Her focus was back on Henry as she sped towards her hotel.

"How bad was it?" she demanded nervously. "I can't believe I was so careless. I didn't mean to say anything, and I've truly put it behind me."

"Well, for what it's worth, I haven't," Henry told her seriously. "Sorry, Mom. I know it's a double standard, but I only have so much villain forgiveness in me, and I'm using most of it on you."

"Oh, Henry, I've done _much_ worse things than what Killian did to me that day," Regina cried. She felt sick now, that she had caused all this damage with one careless statement. She didn't want to be the reason Emma lost her love, and even if she managed to work things out with the pirate, there was one thing Regina knew, and it was that if Henry didn't approve, Emma wouldn't even try to salvage the relationship.

"I know, Mom," Henry insisted, trying to soothe her. "But here's the thing. You're my mom, okay, and if Greg had killed you that day then you would have died thinking that I hated you and that would have killed _me._ So yeah, maybe he's not as bad as you were but you're my mom. I don't want to be around him anymore, and I'm definitely never letting him near you again."

"Henry..."

"Nope, not listening. You kind of have to forgive him, and I get that, but I don’t. So just...deal with that, okay?"

"I--I just-- oh, _Henry!"_ Regina stammered. She felt overwhelmed. Never had she imagined Henry would ever defend her like this; even now she was so careful with him, and their relationship. She knew all too well how fragile it could be, and how quickly she could lose him.

"Anyway, I think this is just an excuse," Henry went on, oblivious to Regina's turmoil. "He's been really clingy and pushy since you left. It's like Hook back when we first met him, when he wouldn't leave Emma alone? It's like he doesn't trust her, or, like, respect her enough to try? Like maybe he's been faking all that stuff or something?" Henry sounded confused and hesitant, and Regina couldn't help the swelling of pride, even through the self-recrimination, that she felt at his attempt to work this out himself. Her son was growing up to be a gentleman, a young man who was aware of women and his responsibility to respect them as people. Perhaps it was time for her to take it further, and tell him about the Enchanted Forest, and how the citizens would expect him to act as their prince, and the ways in which she wanted him to be different.

He interrupted her train of thought by finishing his. "Anyway, it's really unattractive. Even Gramps is getting tired of it, and you know how he and Hook have some sort of mutual admiration society thing going on. She was gonna go off on him anyway, at some point."

"How bad was it?" Regina wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

"She broke up with him," Henry told her bluntly.

Regina cried out with dismay. "No, I didn't mean for this to happen! I have to come home, right now."

Henry scoffed. "Yeah, like showing up with your new old boyfriend and stepson is gonna make her feel better, Mom." She tried to protest, to explain, but Henry cut her off. "Hey, I _promise_ it's not as bad as you think it is. Emma may have seemed pretty serious about him but she had to try really hard to make it that way. It wasn't just Grams and Gramps that made her easy pickings for your old clique. He was stressing her out a lot too. This was always going to happen."

She wasn't sure she believed him. But she was at her hotel now, and instead of going immediately to pack, she instead sat down on her bed and asked, "Henry, are you _sure?"_

"Pretty sure, Mom, yeah," Henry insisted.

"But they seemed so stable," Regina said in bewilderment. "She loves him."

"Eh," Henry said dismissively. "Maybe. It's Emma's relationship though, Mom. You can't fix it for her."

At that, Regina deflated. Henry was right. She couldn't charge back to Storybrooke intent on righting the wrong she'd done this time. Just as Emma hadn't tried to stop her when she'd come here to New York with the intent to break up a marriage.

"You're sure I don't need to come home?"

"Well, I miss you," Henry admitted candidly. "So if you want to come home for me, I won't say no. But otherwise, no. Emma's got it handled." A pause, and then, "You are coming home, right? You aren't going to, like, stay there with Robin? Because I really don't want to do the divorced parents, summer home, winter home thing."

Regina chuckled. "No, Henry. I'm coming home."

"Okay, good. Just checking. It's complicated enough having two mommies without changing cities every few months."

At that, Regina laughed, all the tension dissolving away. "You are a terrible son. And Emma is a terrible influence!"

"Eh. You love us anyway."

And that, Regina was forced to admit, was absolutely the truth.

* * *

 

She timed it so that there was no need to stop at her bench the next morning. With her paper under her arm, nursing her coffee still, she approached Robin's apartment at the exact moment that the little family stepped off their stoop. But instead of bidding one another goodbye there, Robin bent and threw Roland up on his shoulders. Marian looped her arm through his elbow while he held on to the little boy's ankles. Together they strolled away from Regina's approach. In stark contrast to her reaction to seeing them together the first time, Regina found her curiosity was piqued and she followed them cautiously.

She had to admit that they were adorable together.

Roland was playing with his father's hair, pulling at it and petting it and trying to make it stand up. Marian was looking up at him with absolute adoration. Of course Regina couldn't see Robin's face but every so often one of his hands would leave Roland's ankle and he would playfully swat at the boy's hands while Roland laughed loud enough that Regina heard it, and smiled. Suddenly the little boy threw himself from his father's broad shoulders, diving towards his mother with a squeal. Marian squealed too, first in surprise and then again when Roland's backpack slid up past the top of his head and smacked her in the face. Robin waited until Marian had extracted her arm from his to let go of Roland's ankles, so Marian could lift him onto her hip. As soon as he was secure, Robin wrapped an arm around both of them.

When Henry was that age, he hadn't been rambunctious like that. When Regina walked him to school, he held onto her hand tightly and stayed obediently by her leg and watched everything around him with wide dark eyes. He liked to tug at her hand with both of his until she bent to his level. Then he would carefully hold her face so he could whisper in her ear. Usually it was nothing important; that he wanted Oreos for snack when he got home, or that Archie was across the street and could he go pet Pongo before they went to school? But sometimes, not very often but SOMETIMES, he would shock and delight her by whispering something scathing he'd observed on their walk. One time when they were walking past the diner, it was that he thought Dr. Whale looked like he had had and accident in his pants. Number two, he had told her seriously, with a little disgusted sneer. When Regina had looked, Whale was only ogling Kathryn Nolan's ass, but Regina thought her son's assessment was accurate all the same. Yet another time he told her that Leroy always smelled like he had dirty socks in his pockets. She'd always admonished him gently for his words, but had never quite been able to conceal her amusement.

Just now, watching the easy way Robin and Marian handled Roland between them, and how utterly joyful Roland was, Regina couldn't help but wonder if Henry would have been like that too, if he'd had two parents walking him to school instead of one. She tried imagining it, just for fun, and came up with five year old Henry slung over Emma Swan's shoulder, as he kicked and squirmed and tried tickling Emma's sides, while Regina watched with his backpack hooked over one arm. She smiled a little wistfully; it was a lovely image to have. She'd never before regretted Henry's single parent upbringing, and she still didn't, but that would have been nice for them to have as well. She filed it away so she could tell Emma about it later.

Or perhaps not. This seemed like one of those things that it might be better to keep to herself.

Roland's school was a cheerful little one story building with the bright, messy paintings of children plastered in the windows. Roland leapt from Marian's arms when she went to put him down. He started to run off, only for Robin to catch him by the loop of his backpack and pull him back. He and Marian knelt to be eye level with him.

Marian tucked in his white shirt tail under his little sweater vest. He fidgeted and scowled, and Robin caught his chin and said a few solemn words to him. Roland nodded just as seriously, and then grinned and threw his arms around Robin's neck. Robin patted his son's back, then gently pushed him to Marian's side. Marian leaned her cheek out for a kiss, which Roland gave her furtively, glancing around to see if he was being watched first. Seeing this, Marian grinned wickedly and just as he was pulling away she snatched him back and smothered his face in kisses. Robin guffawed as Roland yelled for him to help.

Finally Marian released him. He dashed off without a backwards glance, running up to two other little boys playing on the playground, leaping up onto the play set in a way that Regina could see had been inspired by playing with the Merry Men. The trio of boys shrieked like heathens and immediately began to chase each other wildly.

Marian and Robin watched for a moment. Then Robin slung an arm around Marian's shoulder and bent to say something into her ear. She smacked him in the shoulder, and shook her head fondly. Then Robin did something that cut Regina right to the quick, even as it swept aside any lingering doubts she had about her decision.

He laid one large, protective hand over Marian's stomach. Regina's heart twisted when Marian cradled that hand between her two, and stretched up to press a soft kiss to Robin's lips. Then she slid one hand under his to tangle their fingers together as she turned them around for the walk home.

Regina clenched her jaw, and kept walking in the opposite direction. Her eyes were dry.

* * *

 

She did not feel much like being a tourist that day. She was still reeling from what she’d seen; she didn’t want to participate in life just yet. Rather she wanted to watch it happen around her, while she tried to figure out just what it was, exactly, that she was feeling. So instead of searching out an activity, she instead disposed of her coffee and paper, wrapped her arms around herself, and began to walk. Her phone buzzed in her pocket; she silenced it without even looking. She was not interested in talking to anyone just yet, not even Henry.

She was confused by herself just now. She’d gotten better at controlling herself in recent years, but the all consuming anger, and it’s short and easy to light fuse that triggered it, hadn’t ever gone away. Her initial reaction to most things was now and probably always would be, anger. But just now, she was feeling a curious sense of bewilderment. Because she wasn’t angry. Everything she knew about herself said she should have been furious, and jealous. Everything she’d done in the past insisted that she disregard any noble decision she’d made in regards to her intentions toward Robin’s marriage, and storm in to take what was hers.

But she did not want that. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t hurt. She was, perhaps, a little jealous, but even that was more muted than what she might have expected. Instead what she realized, in resignation, with acceptance, was that Marian had more right to Robin and his love and attention than Regina had ever had. What did she have to offer Robin, aside from some outdated pixie dust? When the dust had done its job, she’d been more like Marian, lighter and softer, bent but not yet broken, and perhaps she would have been good for him then. But she was darker now, changed in ways he couldn’t conceive of, tempered by dragon fire and the blood of others, and perhaps the soul that had been fated for Robin then didn’t even exist anymore. But Marian had fought for her love, and her marriage, and had been willing to step aside for her husband’s happiness and if what Regina had seen meant what she thought it did, if Marian were truly carrying Robin’s second child, well then, hadn’t she more than proven herself to be Robin’s match? Regina hated her, she couldn’t help it, but she also respected her. Marian hadn’t just fought for her love. She’d fought for _Robin._ Regina hadn’t been fighting for Robin, Regina had been fighting for a chance, any chance, to be important to someone.

It was a strange thought to her, to think that another woman might be better matched to her soulmate than she herself was. It went against everything she’d ever been taught to believe, about soulmates and about True Love. But she had to admit that it was a thought that felt right in a way that should have made her uncomfortable, but didn’t. If she were still his perfect match then their affair wouldn’t have been as painful as it had been exhilarating.

Her phone rang again. And again she silenced it.

Another strange thought bubbled up. She’d thought she’d been selfless several times in the past. Deactivating the trigger, hadn’t that been selfless? Sacrificing her life to save Storybrooke—well, alright. To save Henry, really, but still. Wasn’t that selfless? But no, it wasn’t, because she hadn’t done it just to save him. A part of her, a selfish, ugly part that Regina was ashamed to know existed within her, had also wanted to do it because it would redeem herself in his eyes. And if she died, perhaps he would love her again. That was cruel, she knew now, to hope that her death would make her ten year old son love her more. She was glad for Emma’s interference. Glad that Emma had not allowed her to be that selfish.

Giving Henry up to Emma and the land without magic when Pan’s curse threatened them all, that hadn’t been selfless, that had been necessity. She would not pretend otherwise. And her words to him, saying to a child that she did not deserve a happy ending, that had been manipulative, so she could hear his acceptance of her one last time before she was forced to give him up forever. Even giving Emma her very own memories of raising Henry hadn’t been completely selfless. She’d done it because it was kind, and Emma deserved it, because she’d come to respect Emma enough to trust her with that gift, but she’d also done it so that some part of her would remain with Henry even after she’d been returned to the Enchanted Forest.

A series of buzzes erupted from her pocket; her phone going wild with text messages. She turned it off, because she was busy, because she was startled, because she was uncomfortable to realize: the only selfless things she’d ever done in her life had also brought her the most pain. Once she’d saved a girl on a runaway pony, and that had been selfless. And it had led to the death of her first True Love. Now she was giving up her second chance at True Love, again, so he could have a happier life with a woman that fit into the shape of his love more than she ever could.

She wasn’t angry. And she wasn’t jealous. She was nauseous.

* * *

 

Her day of introspection, and aimless wandering, left Regina exhausted both physically and mentally. Also, she was completely lost. Emma would be furious with her, if she knew. She could just hear the blonde lecturing her, the way her voice would be high with disbelief as she admonished her for her inattention, and the real worry on her face while she mockingly told her that New York was not Storybrooke, and she was not the baddest thing around in that city. She would not, she decided as she hailed a cab, tell Emma about this little lapse in judgment.

Probably. Emma had a way of making her say things she didn’t want to. It was very irritating.

She’d been wandering longer than she’d thought. The sun was on its downward trek in the sky, and she was a very long way from her hotel. Her feet were killing her, and somewhere along the line, she’d developed a killer headache. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, since she’d been so deep in her thoughts that she’d completely forgotten about food. She didn’t even have any recollection of where she’d been or what she’d seen. She truly was lucky, she had to admit, that her lack of attention hadn’t garnered her unwanted attention from anyone with malicious intent. She would have hardly been in a place to defend herself today.

After paying the cab driver, she trudged up to her room and wearily ordered room service. She slipped out of her shoes and collapsed onto the bed, every muscle in her body aching in strange ways that didn’t entirely have to do with the walking she’d done that day. It truly felt as though her weariness was seeping into every fiber of her being.

She was tired. She was lonely. She missed her son, and his mother. She was weary of this city. She couldn’t for the life of her think why she’d stayed here as long as she already had. Even if the thought of facing everyone was unbearable, she still should have gone home right away, rather than torture herself by staying. Even if it had been under the guise of healing.

Her food came, and she ate it mechanically, because she had to, not because she wanted it, and she didn’t really taste any of it. But she did feel a little better once she was finished with it. Her head ached less, and by now she’d been stationary long enough that some of the soreness in her muscles was receding too.

Finally she felt rested enough to turn her phone back on. She knew she was going to be flooded with messages from both Henry and Emma, and she was not disappointed. For a moment after she first turned it on, it was silent. Then it began to ding and buzz incessantly.

She had, between her son and his mother, twenty-five text messages. There were twelve missed calls, and only seven of them were from Henry. There were five voicemails.

The text messages were all variations on the same theme. They started out just curious about what she was planning for that day. Emma cottoned on to the fact that Regina was ignoring them faster than Henry did. Henry sent her several messages detailing what he’d helped with that day, since Emma was insistent that she take care of the house herself. He had helped out at the school again, but then Snow and David had pulled him out of that in order to help with the small crew putting Town Hall back together. He was, he assured her, in charge of her office. He knew everything there well enough that he knew what was alright for others to handle, and what she would prefer to keep private.

He was talking, of course, about the storybook picture. The one that hadn’t happened, which had been in her desk drawer rather than on her person for once when everything had started. Regina thought she’d burn it when she got back. Get rid of it once and for all, truly give up the past and the way she clung to it. It might even be fun. Henry might even be ready to get rid of that thrice damned book now, after all the trouble it had caused them over the years. Maybe they’d have a bonfire. She and Henry and Emma in her back yard, feeding the fire with the pages of the book, watching the past burn to a crisp. Emma, Regina smirked, would probably even bring hot dogs. She really was a terrible influence on their son.

She indulged in the fantasy a few more moments before returning her attention to her phone. Henry had finally realized that there had been no reply from her, and soon also grasped that there would be none, either. He sent a few worried texts asking if she was alright, and then a few more asking her to tell him what was wrong. He tried to guilt her by telling her that she was worrying Emma, and then he threatened to unleash Snow White and her over protective concern on her if she didn’t tell him where she was. And idle threat, and Regina knew it well; the Charming family would be much too preoccupied with the problem of their daughter to care about Regina’s problems.

Finally Henry acknowledged that she was not going to reply, and told her he hoped she was okay. He assured her that she could talk to him, and that he missed her, and he hoped she would come home soon. He was three of the voicemails, too, and they all said much of the same things.

Emma had only texted her nine times, and four of them were pictures of her spotless living room, kitchen, and den, and a note bemoaning how difficult that job had been. With a ridiculous little emoticon attached, of course. Then she’d asked about Regina’s plans for the day, questioned her well being when she hadn’t replied, told her Henry was getting worried, taken a picture of them both, wearing what Regina was sure were supposed to be worried expressions, but mostly just ended up making them look as though they were very confused by something. But it was the last two texts that really caught her attention.

 _Okay, I’ll quit bugging you. Call or text when you can, though. We really are worried about you._ Then, almost as an afterthought, she had added, _You aren’t with Forest Boy, are you?_

The last text said only, _Sorry._

She was the other two voicemails in her inbox, but Regina didn’t bother with them. Instead she selected Emma’s number from her contacts, and worried a lip between her teeth while she listened to it ring.

“Took you long enough.”

Regina felt a smile stretch her lips at the sound of Emma’s dry quip. But she wasn’t quite good enough to disguise the relief also lingering there in her tone. With a long sigh, feeling relaxed at last, Regina let her back hit the mattress as she replied, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were my mother.”

“I want it noted that I’m refraining from making an age joke here,” Emma told her. “And I want credit for that.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, dear.” She chuckled at the little huff on the other line, and said quietly, “I’m sorry I worried you and Henry. It was a very long day.”

“You sound tired,” Emma acknowledged.

“That is an understatement.”

There was a pause, during which Regina felt completely comfortable with herself and them. The silence stretched, and Regina was surprised to find that she _stayed_ comfortable. The itch to fill the quiet was completely absent; she was at ease with just the sound of Emma breathing into her ear. More than that, it was soothing to her. All the thoughts and worries she’d had that day, about herself and her intentions and her character, they were all melting away at Emma’s easy acceptance of her.

Eventually, though, she sighed. “I did talk to Henry yesterday.”

Emma mirrored the sigh. “Yeah, he told me. He said you were pretty freaked out.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Regina demanded. “I _am_ sorry for what I said. And I truly have come to terms with it. It was not my intention to stir up trouble between you and—”

“I actually totally know that, and it’s fine,” Emma interrupted. “Henry and I had a long conversation about it, too. He told me some of what you said, and I can completely respect that you’ve put the whole thing behind you. If it helps, I didn’t break up with him because of that. Or at least, not specifically. I mean, I think it was pretty messed up that he sort of brushed it off like it didn’t matter, like that isn’t one of the things he has to atone for because it was _you,_ but whatever. That wasn’t why I did it.”

“Why did you, then?” Regina wondered, burning with curiosity. “Henry said a little, but I’m still confused. You seemed very happy with him.”

“I guess.” Emma didn’t sound convinced. “It was weird, though. He was easy, you know? He was just there, and he was really persistent and it was just…really easy to fall into that. That part never changed. But convincing myself that it was right? That was hard. I was constantly _deciding_ I was going to trust what he said. And did. And wanted. And that just got…”

“Tiring,” Regina finished quietly.

“Yeah, exactly. I probably could have figured it out, but he’s been different since this whole dagger thing went down.”

“Again, Emma, you did almost die.”

“Ugh, seriously, when are you going to let that go? It’s not like we don’t do this every other month or whatever. Seriously, mortal danger has a schedule in Storybrooke. I’m _always_ almost dying. But that’s not even it. Henry told you he’s been getting pushy again, right?”

“He did mention that, yes.”

“Well, he’s also pushing the whole “reforming villain” thing pretty hard at me, too.” Regina scoffed, and Emma made a loud sound of agreement. “See, I _knew_ you’d get that! He keeps going on about his dark past, and how much wrong he’s done, and how he’s going to atone for it, and how I’m worth atoning for. And that is just seriously way too much pressure. Like it’s my responsibility to keep being the type of person he, like, comes to terms with his past for? He should just be doing that. For himself. Not because I’m the prize he gets to keep because he doesn’t murder people anymore.”

Regina chuckled, but she understood where Emma was coming from. Emma laughed too, and then asked, “Can’t you start a Villains Anonymous or something? Sponsor the baby reforming villains and show them how it’s done?”

“Me?” Regina half sat up in her surprise. “I hardly think I’m qualified to help anyone, dear. I still find it… _so_ difficult.”

“No, yeah, I know, I get that,” Emma was quick to reassure. “But I mean, you don’t do this. You don’t make Henry feel like he’s the only thing between you and an Evil Queen freak out. You do what you need to do, and you’re doing it for you. You’re not, like, asking for credit or constantly talking about your tragic dark past, and I bet you have some serious stories you could tell.”

“I do,” Regina admitted. She mulled Emma’s words over, surprised by them. She hadn’t thought that was what she was doing; it felt like at every turn she’d been fighting to make people understand, her choices had been her own but she hadn’t made them unaided. She’d felt that she _was_ referencing her tragic dark past too much and wanting acknowledge her for the work that she’d done. And certainly, she’d worried about Henry’s well being, in all of this. She worried that she was putting too much pressure on him, that she was relying on him too much.

“Henry is not a prize I get to keep for not murdering people anymore,” she said carefully. “And he is not the only thing standing between me and a…Evil Queen…freak out…but much of what I have done to better myself has been to become the kind of person that Henry can be proud to love. Is that really so different than what you are describing with Hook?”

Emma blew out a breath. “It is. Regina, listen, because this is important, because it is different. With Hook I feel so pressured. He makes it sound like if I’m not this shining beacon of goodness, he might forget that he doesn’t pillage villages anymore. It’s exhausting, really. Henry doesn’t feel like that with you. He’s happy to help you, because he knows that even if he didn’t, you wouldn’t stop trying. Does that make sense? I can’t explain it any other way, but trust me, it feels different. Henry and I both think so.” A pause, and then, “And just so you know? You’re totally the kind of person that _anyone_ would be proud to love.”

Regina flushed in pleasure, feeling warm. She cleared her throat, and said, “Thank you, Emma.”

“Just telling the truth,” Emma said dismissively, but Regina could tell she was pleased too. Then she sighed and continued the conversation. “Also, he won’t leave me alone. At all. He’s constantly trying to check up on me and do things for me and whatever. I get that I scared him, but I don’t even think it’s what happened to me, it’s more like he’s freaked out by the _why_.”

“The why?”

“Yeah,” Emma said casually. “You know, that I did it for you? Pretty sure that’s what has him all shadowy lately.”

“I don’t—I—Emma, I don’t know—” She cut herself off with a frustrated growl. She’d _never_ been this inarticulate before, and what made matters worse was that she knew what she _wanted_ to say. She was just so damned terrified to say it!

“I know,” Emma said finally, easily. “It’ll keep, Regina. Okay? It’ll keep.”

“Will it?” Regina wondered aloud. “These things usually don’t, for me.”

“It’ll keep,” Emma said firmly.

And Regina had no choice but to believe her.

* * *

 

The next morning when she opened her eyes, her phone was still cradled between her shoulder and her ear. She’d fallen asleep talking to Emma sometime in the early hours of the morning. What was even more astonishing than that was to find that her alarm was still going off after twenty minutes of her sleeping right through it. She _hated_ waking late, and usually it did not matter if she’d only been asleep for an hour or two, the moment her alarm went off, she was awake immediately. She’d never slept through her alarm before.

Still, even though she was late, she did not rush through her morning routine. In fact, she took extra care to go through the whole thing, for the first time since arriving in New York, and to make herself up as flawlessly as she ever would at home. It was nice to feel comfortable in her own skin again. After yesterday, she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel at home in her own head again. But several hours of talking with Emma, and she was more herself now than she’d felt in such a long time.

She was going to miss seeing Robin leave for work, but that was okay. She didn’t need to test her resolve anymore. This decision had been easier to make than she’d expected, and in the same vein it was also much easier for her to get over it than she would have thought. Perhaps she was growing; perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps she should stop thinking about it too hard, and appreciate what was right in front of her face.

Even though she didn’t need or even particularly want to see Robin again, she didn’t stop herself from walking in that direction. He would already be gone, but she did want to see the apartment once more before she allowed Robin Hood, and all the hope and pain and destiny he’d brought with him, exit her life forever.

It was a nice home, in a nice neighborhood. Roland’s school was nice, and the park was beautiful. They would be happy there, Robin and Marian and Roland and the new baby. They would be happy there, and Regina had done the right thing. She knew that she had, because she felt free.

The drive back to Storybrooke felt faster than the drive to New York had. She’d thought, going to New York, that she’d been running toward her happy ending, and so the heaviness in her chest had confused her. She understood now, though, she hadn’t been running toward her happy ending, she had been running away from it, and she hadn’t even known it. She knew it now, though, and for the first time in a very long time, she really did feel like she was running toward something.

It was like she told Henry before she’d left: she _would_ have the happy ending she deserved. It was just that now, she knew what that happy ending looked like.

It was dark when she passed the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. In just the few short days she’d been gone, the town had done a remarkable job of putting itself back together. The worst of the damage was still there, of course; she and Emma would have to take care of mending that together. But everything else was back in working order. She smiled, proud of her town and her hard working citizens. Most of the lights were off and businesses were locked up, but Granny and Ruby were standing in front of the diner when she drove by. They waved at her, and she waved back.

It was so good to be home again.

She cut the lights of her car before she pulled into her drive, so she wouldn’t give away her presence just yet. Her luggage she left in the trunk; time enough to handle that later. She had more important matters to attend to. It was late, but she knew Henry would be up anyway. There were too many lights blazing inside 108 Mifflin, and Regina made a note to scold Emma for that later. Now, though, she just slid her key home and quietly turned the lock. Inside, she took her shoes off so she wouldn’t click on the hardwood, and padded quietly to the living room. She peeked around the door, and smiled at what she saw.

Henry was sprawled face down on the couch, barely awake as he watched one of those terribly concocted monster movies with bad special effects. Emma was curled up in the armchair, her eyes on the TV but unfocused. She was holding her phone in her hand, and every so often she would click the home button to check the time, frown, and lose herself in her thoughts again.

Family, she told herself firmly, and smiled because it was true. Everything she had been searching for was right here in this room, and she was exactly where she belonged. And so, holding on to that feeling, she cleared her throat.

Two sets of eyes leapt to her face, and two sets of lips turned up into wide, beaming smiles at the sight of her. Henry leapt up from the couch, shouting, “Mom!” as he ran to embrace her. His enthusiasm knocked her back a couple of steps, but she caught him because she would _always_ catch him, and her arms hugged him back just as tightly.

“I missed you,” he muttered into her hair.

“I missed you too,” she whispered back. Her eyes met Emma’s over Henry’s shoulder, and they shared a soft smile. Emma’s eyes were bright with something, happiness and contentment and completion perhaps, and Regina knew that hers matched.

When Henry pulled back, he cast his eyes quickly back and forth behind her. Then, confused, he asked, “Where’s Robin?”

Regina swept a lock of hair off his forehead, overcome with tenderness for her son. She shook her head, and said, “He’s exactly where he should be. In New York, with his family.”

“But your happy ending?”

“I’ll make my own,” she assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Didn’t he want to come with you?” Henry sounded confused, but not unhappy. He was just processing, Regina knew. She didn’t blame him. She’d been clear when she left that she was doing so with the intention of breaking up a marriage.

“I never even spoke with him,” she admitted, and caught Emma’s eye again. This time the blonde’s eyes were bright with pride and tears, and Regina wanted to catch them before they fell. “He’s happy where he is. He’s happy with his wife. And I am very happy for him.”

 _“Mom,”_ Henry gasped.

But Emma pushed him aside gently. She stepped right up into Regina’s space, and held her eyes as she smiled, and said quietly, “I’m really proud of you, Regina.”

Those were words Regina had not heard in a very, very long time. And as Emma wrapped her up in an embrace that was warmer and more secure than any she’d had since Daniel’s arms had sheltered her, Regina found that she was proud of herself too.

* * *

 

She told them the whole story sitting at the kitchen table. She told them about what she’d seen in the park and how it had changed her mind, and the places she’d gone in the days afterward, as she came to terms with her decision and herself. Henry goaded her into admitting that yes, she had loved the pizza they’d recommended that night, and he’d nodded smugly. “Told you so,” he muttered, so she tugged on his hair for his cheek. Then, when she had pulled the honey locust spine from her pocket and slid it across the table to Emma, she’d smiled and tugged on Regina’s hair for _her_ cheek, and all three of them had laughed.

When the telling was done, Henry yawned and stood and bent to kiss his mothers each on the forehead. He lingered a bit in Regina’s embrace, and said, “I’m proud of you too, Mom. And I’m really glad you’re home.”

She smiled, and shooed him off to bed, so it was just her and Emma at the table. Emma smiled at her, and slid her bare feet across the floor to trap one of Regina’s between them. Regina smiled too. Or maybe she hadn’t ever stopped smiling. She couldn’t tell anymore.

“The house looks wonderful,” she told the blonde. Emma laughed.

“Eh, the upstairs is still kind of a mess. We only did your room and Henry’s.”

“I’ll help you finish whatever is left.”

“Uh, yeah you will. This is your house and Cruella was _your_ friend! I’m not your housekeeper!” Regina rolled her eyes, and hooked her free leg behind one of Emma’s. Emma’s smile grew even bigger. She reached across the table and tapped her index finger against the back of Regina’s hand. “Trust you to go to New York and have a walkabout. It’s kind of creepy that you sat outside Robin’s house for four days, you know that?”

“Oh, hush.” Regina waved a hand dismissively. Then she turned her other hand so it was palm up, and Emma took the invitation and laid her hand on top of it. Regina curled her fingers up, and Emma curled hers down, until they were kind of cupping one another’s fingers, and _still_ grinning like idiots.

“Was it hard?” Emma asked finally. “Letting Robin go like that?”

Regina tilted her head, thinking. Finally, she pulled her fingers against Emma’s as she said, ”Yes. And no. It was harder to let go of the idea of him, than the reality of him, I think.”

“Why is that, I wonder?” Emma didn’t really sound like she was asking a question she expected to be answered, and the way her eyes were slowly tracing the curve of Regina’s neck made her wonder if the woman was even aware that she’d spoken. But Regina was glad that she had, because this was the question she’d been waiting for. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest; it was exhilarating, intoxicating. She was finally and for real forging her own path.

“Because I want to choose,” she said quietly, finding Emma’s eyes and holding them, willing her to understand. “I want to choose and be chosen in return. Do you see? Robin didn’t have a choice, he _had_ to love me. And I’ve realized, he has never been strong enough to choose me. Because I’ve made myself very difficult to love, Emma. He didn’t have a choice and that nearly destroyed him. So the…person…that loves me must choose to love me, and choose it every day, because I won’t always make it easy. It’s the only way I can be sure that…they…are strong enough to want to keep me.”

The smile slipped from Emma’s face as she listened, till she was just holding onto Regina’s fingers and taking every word to heart. And when she fell quiet, Emma didn’t respond right away. Regina waited patiently, heart still thumping, still leaping deliciously up into her throat. Emma was silent for a long, long time. But Regina didn’t panic, and she didn’t look away, and she didn’t let go of Emma’s hand, and she didn’t pull her legs away from where they were still locked with Emma’s. She just waited, and was sure that whatever Emma said, it would be worth it to hear.

Finally, Emma’s lips pursed a little, and she said slyly, “You’re being awfully careful with your pronouns there, Regina.”

Regina smirked at the mischief in Emma’s eyes. Coyly she returned, “Am I? I suppose I just don’t want to…limit myself, as it were.”

“That’s smart,” Emma nodded. She extracted her legs, and gripped Regina’s fingers tight as she stood. With a none too gentle tug, she hauled Regina to her feet too. She pulled a little at Regina’s belt loops, until they were just barely touching at the hips. Her voice was thoughtful as she murmured, “I guess you’ve already chosen me several times over, haven’t you?” Regina said nothing, still just waiting, and finally Emma’s smile bloomed fully. She pulled again till they were flush against one another, and Regina felt her heart stutter, then twist, then jump start into a deep, steady beat that felt constant and enduring in her chest. Emma slid a hand behind her neck, under her hair, and shook her head fondly. “For the record, I don’t think you’re difficult to love at all. I’ve always been at least a little bit in love with you, even when you were trying to kill me. You just make it very worth the effort.”

And if anyone ever, _ever_ asked her, Regina would deny it to her dying breath, but those words and the soft but brilliant smile Emma wore while saying them made Regina honest to god swoon. Because yes. _Exactly._ That was exactly what she’d meant. It was exactly what she’d wanted. And she was so glad to finally, finally have found it. Her arms wrapped themselves around Emma’s waist. The Savior smelled like sandalwood and shea butter; she’d been showering in Regina’s shower, and using Regina’s shampoo, and everything about this was so overwhelmingly _home_ that it made tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“I have chosen you,” she said. “I chose you long before I ever knew that I had. And I’ll keep choosing you, for as long as you let me.”

“That’s awesome,” Emma whispered, and her lips brushed against Regina’s as she spoke. Regina felt herself grow calmer and steadier with each gentle, barely there touch. “Because I’ll keep choosing you, too. We write our own happy endings now.”

Regina took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Something wild inside of her settled finally, and she knew that it would stay settled, because she was done. This was everything she had ever wanted, and she was just so relieved that she had finally allowed herself to recognize it. She smiled and leaned in, just a fraction of an inch, till her lips were softly but definitely against Emma’s in the gentlest, sweetest of kisses.

“Indeed we do, my dear,” she agreed softly. “Indeed we do.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is also an attempt at fixing everything wrong they've done with Robin Hood, too. The story of Robin Hood was such an important one to my childhood, and this whole business on the show has just really damaged that for me. So, I hope my attempt at fixing that up a bit came through.
> 
> The title comes from a Nick Cave song called Straight To You. Basically this song and Are You The One That I've Been Waiting For? are the soundtracks for this surprise character study, if anyone cares about that kind of thing.


End file.
